When the blood runs stale
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: It was like a comfort to them, their being here together and Olive's body so close to his reminded him of a safe haven, like his own personal anchor in this God-forsaken world. SEQUEL TO "Say When" - read that first! DarylxOC, random pairings throughout. Mature themes, so the rating is M to be safe (romance, sexual situations, language, content, general zombie-ness). No flames.
1. 30 Days Without an Accident

**A/N: **This is a sequel to Say When. If you haven't read Say When, you'll probably find yourself to be pretty lost when you start this, so please head on over and read that one first - I promise you won't be disappointed! As with Say When, I own Olive Norton and the aspects of her story. Enjoy!

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The early rays of sunlight creeping over the walls of the prison began stringing through the bars like rays of hope, a light for another glorious day of survival, if 'glorious' was an appropriate word at the time. Unfortunately, it wasn't. However, that isn't to say that little things were not considered glorious, something that Daryl realized every single morning.

A groggy kind of groan sounded in the back of his throat as half-weary eyes pried open to let the brightness of the morning rouse them from their slumber. He had slept well the previous night and as he shifted slightly and a soft coo was heard from his side, he recalled why.

Several months had passed since Andrea's untimely death and he and Olive had grown ever closer until their relationship had been consummated for the first time some weeks ago. He would find himself falling asleep and waking up with his arms around her - on occasion, her arms would be around him, especially if nightmares had him unable to relax.

On this particular morning, on a day that would prove to be most distressing, Olive was beside him. As he had begun to move, she, too, shifted to gain a closer proximity to his body, her naked body flush against his side. Wide blues watched as her slender arm draped itself delicately across his chest and her cheek nuzzled against his pec. A light sigh of contentment escaped between her partially parted lips and Daryl's body shivered. He was happy with her unlike his relationships with just about everyone else in the camp, and certainly on a different level entirely.

He had given his body to hers and she to his and everything seemed sublime. They were not the type of couple to do this every night, but when they could, they did. It was like a comfort to them, their being here together and Olive's body so close to his reminded him of a safe haven, like his own personal anchor in this God-forsaken world.

His eyes tipped down, scanning over her as her leg wandered beneath the sheets until it was hooked around his own. The light brown hair of hers - of which had grown a good three inches - was softly cascaded over his chest like streaks of scars, each a reminder of how much he loved her, of how much he _needed_ her.

Olive's arm shifted once more, moving so that her hand was now in the center of his chest, lightly playing with the hairs there as instinct, not ritual.

Daryl moved in, lightly caressing his lips to the crown of her head. "I love you," he murmured, his voice a deep kind of growl.

Olive stirred, tongue clicking once or twice as she blinked rapidly before lifting her head. Turning, her eyes met his with a kind of sleepy sincerity. "Good morning," she muttered, tones of sleep still coating her voice as she leaned in for a kiss. Her lips against his were moist and wanted and he returned it gladly, moving a hand to weave its digits through her hair, the satin locks comforting his typical morning intensity. "Sleep well?"

"I always sleep well with you here," he admitted with a soft shrug. They shared a smile before meeting one another in the middle for another kiss, this one longer and more purposeful.

"Daryl, Olive - Rick needs you two to - Oh, my God!" a voice sounded from the door. The startled tones belonged to Carol, who quickly averted her eyes from Olive's exposed breasts. Olive pulled the sheet around her chest and sank her face into Daryl's chest to hide the burgeoning blush creeping against the base of her neck.

"What the fuck, Carol?" Daryl snapped, raising an arm in complete confusion. "That's such a creepy thing to do."

"I didn't know you two were - Oh, my God."

"Well, we are. Get outta here! We know what we gotta do today already." With that, the flustered grey-haired woman left. "Dammit, I'm sorry, Olive."

Olive shook her head, lifting her head slightly so that her chin now rested on his chest, fists still balled around the sheets. "I just didn't mean to flash her so early in the morning."

Daryl chuckled, resting his head back on the railing behind him, forearm raised against his forehead. "Shit. I wish she'd stop bein' so goddamn creepy."

"She has a thing for you. Always has."

Daryl frowned, cupping her face and looking into her eyes directly. "Yer the only woman fer me an' ya know it."

Olive nodded, tilting her head to press a peck to his chest. "You helpin' Rick this morning?"

Daryl sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to start dressing himself for the day. "Yeah, I do. We're workin' in the garden fer a bit, and then I've gotta check the traps and we're still on for that raid tonight."

Olive propped herself onto an elbow, watching him and listening to him as he spoke. "I'm still game for coming tonight." The blades of her fingers gently swiped along the abuse raised under and over his skin, a tender kind of affection.

"Olive, I worry 'bout bringin' y'along with us." His voice was laced with genuine concern and Olive's heart sank a bit at the sound of it. "We've been scared 'bout you maybe bein'...well, ya know what I mean."

Olive nodded, brown eyes casting down at her belly. "I told you some of the women in my family are sterile. I think I am, too - I'm hopin', for our sake, that I am." She and Daryl had had a long, stern talk about the possibility of pregnancy between them. They decided that another infant mouth to feed, another cry to silence for fear of endangering others wasn't worth the risks they'd already set forth in their own ultimate survival. "Maggie and Glenn are going through the same thing right now, a scare." When his movements ceased - clearly, he'd not heard about that - Olive shifted closer and grazed her lips against several of the scars on his back.

Daryl's eyes fluttered closed at the darling feeling of her gentle lips caressing his weary, scar-borne flesh. Her kisses tingled to the touch and a light smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards as her mouth's hot breath reverberated against his ear. "I'm greedy aboutcha, ya know." She murmured a chuckle and he continued. "I'm glad I'm the only fella that had ya. Even when the Gov tried to - "

"Daryl, shhh," she said, pressing her lips the side of his neck and wrapping her arms around his form.

" - even _he_ couldn't have ya. I feel so special to call ya mine."

"I am. I'm yours."

He turned his head slightly to give her a soft kiss before standing from the bed to button up his cut-off shirt, sling on his winged vest, and stuff a bandanna into his pocket. "What're you up to this mornin'?"

Olive tossed the sheet aside, standing in her nude figure from the bed and causing a lump to form in Daryl's throat as he watched her. "I'm heading down to the fences to take care of some of the walkers there and then I'll be working on trying to figure out what to do about it."

"The fences?"

She nodded, pulling on her jeans and fastening them before grabbing her bra and slipping her arms into its allotments, hooking it together at the front. "Rick and I noticed yesterday that they're buckling in some spots. I'm going to try and think of a way to prop 'em up, keep 'em standing."

Daryl nodded. "That's my girl." Olive smiled proudly, pulling her t-shirt over her head and proceeding to roll the sleeves. She grabbed her boots and pulled them on over her freshest socks, beginning to lace them. "Hey." Her movements ceased, her undivided attention now directed at him. "More o' this - " A single finger gestured towards the bed. " - later tonight?"

Olive grinned, raking her fingers through her hair to push it all back into a ponytail. "Of course."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, nodding as he gave her a wink and departed from the doorway.

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Olive despised the length of the grass in some places as she paced along the pathway between fence-lines, a notebook in hand and a pencil in the other. She'd used a knife to sharpen it, but it worked just fine.

"Whatcha doing?" Carl asked, startling her a bit with how grown-up and deep his voice seemed to sound.

"I'm sketching out some ideas on how to fix the places where the fences are buckling - like right here," she answered, pointing to a particular location just above their heads. "I know what needs to be done, but describing it and drawing it out is a bit more difficult."

Carl glanced over her notes and then looked back at her, a kind of knowing glisten behind his eyes. "I know what you mean. I saw the way a friend of my dad's built protection in the town he was in - had the whole place rigged with booby traps."

Olive's brow rose. "Think you could show me what you mean?" She outstretched her arms to him, handing him the items so that he could give her a visual to better explain how to flesh that out for the rest of the group. Nearby, a small line of walkers pushed in on the fence, gnashing their teeth and wheezing and growling just like usual.

In the main field, Daryl stood from his bent-over position. Having checked the traps and brought back some meat for the group, he was busy helping Rick when he spotted Olive and Carl yonder by the fence-line.

"How're things between you and Olive?" Rick asked point-blank.

His bluntness startled the Dixon as he cleared his throat and got back to his work. "Things are just fine," was his answer.

Rick gave a kind of half-smirk as he worked the shovel. "Carol told me about her scare this morning." He kind of laughed, and Daryl narrowed his eyes some.

"'Tweren't no big deal. She walked in unannounced and got an eyeful is all." At that, he, too, kind of laughed and Rick burst into a hearty kind of chortle. "Sometimes she's so damn creepy."

"Well, I'm glad her, uh, eyeful was Olive and not you or you'd never live it down."

"I don't think I'll live it down either way."

"You two usin' protection?" Daryl nearly stumbled, eyes going wide as he stared in the former leader's direction. Rick stopped shoveling and leaned against it. "Listen, Daryl, I'm not meanin' to pry. I just know that protection's scarce and Maggie and Glenn are already dealin' with the consequences of consummation."

Daryl was uncomfortable with such a tender subject being brought up, but he decided to humor the other and give an honest answer. "She's sterile." Rick's gaze cast over to where he noticed Olive and Carl making their way back to where he and Daryl were.

"I didn't know."

A shrug shook the redneck's shoulders softly as he continued his work. "It's fine. Probably better this way anyhow."

Rick was about to comment about his guilt on the exhuming of the subject, but said nothing as his son and Olive neared.

"Dad," Carl said, "Olive's got some great ideas for the weak spots in the fence."

"I wouldn't have figured it out, Rick, if it weren't for your son," Olive admitted fondly, moving to stand by her man and give him a gentle smile. "You're a bright young man, Carl."

"I gave her some ideas that Morgan had used."

"They're brilliant."

"I'm sure they are," Daryl chimed in, nudging his elbow against his girlfriend's side.

Carl nodded, smiling in Olive's direction before heading over to the pig pen with Rick.

"Such a good kid," Olive commented once Carl had walked away.

Daryl agreed silently. "Seems like he's taken a likin' to ya." She shot him a look and he chuckled a bit. "I'm serious!"

Olive sniggered. "I believe you." She nudged her arm into his side, nodding her head in Rick's direction. "They've spend a lot of time around the pen today."

Daryl sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. She handed him a bottle of water. "Yeah, apparently a pig's gone ill."

Olive's brow furrowed. "Do they know with what yet?"

Daryl shook his head, down a gulp of the icy liquid before continuing. "No. They're workin' on it. That's one less pig we'll have by tomorrow - mark my words."

"Consider 'em marked." He scoffed and she laughed.

"Smart-ass."

"Yes, but I'm _your_ smart-ass."

"Proud of it." He drew her in by her waist, planting a kiss to her temple before ushering her up to the main courtyard. Carol was placing their plates of food for lunch onto the metal bleachers when she caught sight of the couple heading her way. Her eyes went wide and with a swift turn on her heels, away she went.

"Someone's still thinking about this morning," Olive said in reference to Carol's hurried exit. Picking up her plate, she munched down on the bacon, smiling at the warmth and the comforting taste. "Do you think she'll ever bother us in the mornings again?"

Daryl smirked, shaking his head. "I doubt it. Bitch needs to mind her own damn business about shit, especially where you and I are concerned." Olive glanced over at him while he made a bacon sandwich with his bacon slices and the biscuit. He noticed her watching him after a moment and gave a small laugh. "What?"

"You're getting all defensive about me, Dixon."

"Of course I am. You're my girl, remember?"

"I remember." She smiled fondly, chewing and swallowing another bite before sighing contently. "Daryl, you are so - "

"Dirty? Rank? Sweaty?"

"...loved."

Shifting a bit closer, he meant to give her a kiss in spite of her mouth being full of food, but then an approaching intruder messed that up, so he straightened, pulling his body back into the bubble he had possessed before.

"Mr. Dixon?" Patrick, Carl's friend and a young former member of Woodbury, said as he approached the couple.

"Yeah, Patrick?" Daryl asked, his tone a bit more sharp than he had intended. Granted, he had been wrongfully interrupted while trying to give his girlfriend a kiss, but even still, he needed to be patient with some people.

"I just wanted to thank you for hunting for all of us. There are so many people now and it's a big burden. I know it's not an easy job - "

"I have help, ya know," Daryl interrupted, gesturing to Olive as he swallowed another bite.

Patrick nodded. "Even still, we're very grateful for what you've done for us." He outstretched his hand to shake, but Daryl licked his fingers of the food that had accumulated on them and then stuck his own hand out. Patrick withdrew his appendage, a rather disgusted expression on his face as he left the area.

"Seems like he's taken a likin' to ya," Olive said, directly quoting him from earlier. When he looked at her, she made a kissy noise and he shook his head softly.

"Yer lucky I love ya," Daryl cautioned jokingly, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "I'm goin' to grab our gear fer the run."

"_Our_ gear." The repetition of those words made her smile. "I like the sound of that." He gave her a light smile before departing, both of their now-empty plates in his hands. "Such a gentleman."

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The trek to the grocery store for their supply run was interesting to say the least. It was fairly quiet, what with Daryl and Olive sitting in the back of the truck and Zach, Beth's new boyfriend, sitting with them. He had attempted to find something to talk to them about, but couldn't. They didn't know this kid and, frankly, it would be better if he kept quiet anyway - their duty to Beth was to keep this kid safe. If they couldn't, they would both feel as though they had failed.

"Gotta keep quiet once we get inside there," Daryl cautioned as they waited outside the store. Michonne had gone around the back of the building to sneak in and get the front entrance to the store dislodged for easier access. Sasha stood nearby, shooting Olive an apologetic look for letting the teenager tag along with them. "Ya never know if a walker could be around the corner or behind ya or somethin'."

"And make sure to use your knife as much as possible," Olive warned. "Save the ammo in case of an ambush because then it won't matter how much noise you make."

"I'd listen to those two," Sasha said for Zach's benefit, as well as Bob Stookey, another new guy who wanted to come with them. "They're the primary game-hunters for our group. Literal meat-winners."

Zach appeared impressed. "I wanna learn all I can from trips like this," he admitted. "We didn't have much experience with supply runs in Woodbury. We had a Wal-Mart. This kinda shit didn't have any effect on us."

"It ain't shit if ya need it," Daryl corrected, not startled when Michonne rapped her knuckles against the glass just behind him. Zach and Bob jumped half a foot each.

Olive shook her head. "Showtime," she said, shifting her pants a bit when she stood, making sure her Glock was within reach as she and Daryl led the way behind Michonne into the store. Instantly, she and Daryl headed for the family planning section, grabbing what was left of the condoms before heading to the pharmacy to nab some much-needed pharmaceuticals.

"We'll definitely need to grab the vicodin," Daryl whispered to her, watching her back as she took the very large bottle and shoved it into her bag.

"Hey," Bob whispered hoarsely from down the aisle, "what should I grab?"

Olive shot him a look, half dumb-founded that he would even have to ask that. "Start grabbin' shit we need like water, especially the large jugs of it. Grab some foodstuffs with Michonne - she's headed down that way."

"Okay." He left as quickly as he'd showed up and Olive pointed her flashlight in the direction of the shelves once more, shaking her head.

"If he seriously has to ask that kind of a question, what's the point in bringing him along on these raids anymore?"

Daryl shrugged. "I'll talk to Sasha, tell her not to invite 'im anymore." His love turned her head and flashed him a thankful smile as she reached for the last three, large bottles of vitamin C. With the way light wispy waves of her hair had come undone from her ponytail and in the dim light of the store, Daryl's heart sank, a derivitive of his love for her constantly on the lookout. Clearing his throat some, she chuckled and nudged him out of her way, heading towards the main sections to check on everyone else.

Just as they exited the aisle, a loud crash echoed throughout the store. The pair rushed towards the sound, finding that an entire shelf had tipped over. The alcohol shelf had fallen onto Bob, a fact that Daryl discovered when he crouched and peered into the wreckage with his flashlight.

"You alright, man?" he asked of the dark-skinned man who would definitely no longer be invited on raids. "You cut or somethin'?"

"Naw, man," Bob said, gesturing his head towards his legs, both of which seemed to be pinned beneath the shelf, "but my foot is caught."

"Oh," Daryl said, standing and tucking his flashlight beneath his arm, "he's just caught." Olive nodded, snapping towards Zach as a gesture requiring his assistance. "C'mon. Help me up with this."

"Go figure it was over an abundance of wine and beer," Olive said, a kind of snark to her tone as they lifted a wooden shelf and put it back into place. Tyreese made his way over to Bob to try and pull him out.

"I was movin' fast, man," Bob said, trying to laugh it off, though Olive was having none of it. "I went right through the aisle."

Tyreese started to say something and Daryl was about to ask Olive about her inhibitions regarding the newcomer when a portion of the ceiling overlooking the alcohol aisle caved in and a walker was caught in the raftings. His entire abdomen split open and only his intestines left him hanging. Blood and rotting innards dribbled onto the floor and the entire group was left staring up at the inevitable about to ensue.

"Uh, we should really get outta here," Glenn cautioned, his armored suit and weapon aimed and at-the-ready.

"Bob's still stuck - get 'im outta there!" Daryl said, immediately heading back to the shelves. Olive was right beside him, her half-gloved hands still gripping the frames as the pair attempted to lift the heaviness together. Zach, too, added his own strength to the mix. Michonne and Sasha were ready with their own weapons as more walkers found weak spots in the ceiling and came crashing into the store.

Tyreese took off when one group of walkers cut him away from the rest of them. Glenn was pinned to the ground when two walkers attempted to bite through his body armor and failed. Once he was able to shimmy enough to grab his weapon, one was shot clear through the brain and the other was beaten with the butt of the gun.

Daryl and Olive couldn't stick around Bob when walkers were all around, each taking a side to defend the group from them as best as they could. At one point, Daryl moved up a bit onto a stack of beer cases, his crossbow coming in excellent handy while Olive's pitchfork kept those around his feet at bay. Glancing up, Daryl heard the low creak of the crashed helicopter on the roof - soon, the ceiling would collapse and the copter would fall onto all of them.

"Daryl, move!" Olive shouted over the howling noises of the walkers, her hand tugging his pants as she fought her way back to Bob.

"Get Bob!" Zach yelled, lifting the shelf as Daryl and Olive pulled him out from underneath the weight of it. Once he had been freed, they started away when a frightened cry from behind them stopped them short. It was Zach.

Apparently, a walker had been crawling across the floor behind Bob's legs and now had a hold of Zach, chomping into his calf to weaken him. The young man fell to the linoleum, eyes wide and screams of terror bellowing from his lungs.

"Zach!" Glenn screamed, but it was too late. The walker now had a bite of Zach's neck and in a few more agonizing minutes, it would definitely all be over. The helicopter gave one final, consistent groan and everyone took off for the front entrance.

"Everyone, go! Go!" Tyreese shouted and all followed. Daryl was just behind Olive at the rear, each sprinting for the exit as the ceiling finally gave way and silenced the droning seethes of the walkers they'd left behind.

**::::**

Daryl cleared his throat from the entrance to Beth's cell once they made it back. Olive was just behind him for a moment before heading up to their cell.

The teenager looked up at the familiar face, noting the empty kind of sadness it possessed. "Is he dead?" she asked bluntly, and Daryl nodded. Getting up from her bed, Beth moved to the dresser area, grabbing a chalk tally she'd been keeping - the tally was labeled "Days without an accident." She subsequently erased it with her arm, her eyes turning back to the older man she admired. "What? Expect me to start bawlin' or somethin'? I don't cry anymore, Daryl. Yeah, he was my boyfriend, but I'm glad just to have known 'im."

Daryl chewed on his lip and nodded softly, startled by the uneasiness he felt from her indifference. Turning around, he headed up to the cell, his legs a bit weary and dragging slightly as they slowed, entering the cell with a determined kind of move.

Olive craned her head to look at him from where she was standing on the other side of the room, removing her boots. "What'd she do when you told her?" she asked softly.

Daryl drew the curtains of their space closed to give each privacy as they changed from their awful attire. "She didn't flinch. No cryin', no blubberin', no screamin' at God."

"God didn't kill that boy today, Daryl." Olive stood, unbuttoning her vest with nimble but shaking hands, digits still stained with fragments of dark walker blood. "That walker going after Bob _did_."

He nodded, tipping his crossbow to lean against the wall as he removed his leather vest and draped it on the chair in the corner, his hands working on the buttons of his shirt. "I know. Sometimes it's easier to have somethin' or someone to blame, ya know?"

Olive agreed silently, knowing that he'd been blaming something since he'd lost his brother for good. "You've gotta stop taking every death as a personal blow, love," she said, her tones soothing as she crossed the room to him, her fingers replacing his in undoing his shirt. "_We_ lost that boy today. We. Not Daryl."

Daryl studied her as she spoke, a light nod moving his head as his hands moved down to her pants, beginning to unfasten them at the front. "Yeah."

Olive frowned a bit, placing her palms flat against his chest, her eyes tilting up to look at him directly. "Why does Zach's death bother you so?"

He paused, shrugging as she noticed a twinge in his chin. He was clearly struggling to not cry. "I'm just sick o' losin' people."

Olive nodded understandably, her face conveying a sense of empathy. Nimble fingers still shaking slid up to hold the sides of his face and press her forehead to his. "Y'ain't losin' _me_."

Daryl sighed, his broad, callous palms moving up to grip her wrists lovingly. "I could've today. I coulda lost ya. I can't lose ya, Olive. I need ya too fuckin' much."

"Shhh." She silenced him with her lips against his sweetly, a kind of tender notion. She felt the muscles in his mouth return the sentiment and she pressed a bit closer to him for safety reasons. "I'm not going anywhere. You've got me now, right here."

"I know. I intend on keepin' the word I left ya with this mornin'."

"Daryl, we don't have to - "

"I know we don't have to." He paused, nuzzling his nose against hers as his volume dropped some and his hands slid to her waist, wrapping them completely around her there to draw her into himself. "I _want_ to."


	2. Infected

**A/N:** I don't know how, but somehow this ended up in the Comics section for TWD as opposed to the TV shows section. With this being Daryl/OC, I don't see how that'd work. I put it in the TV section initially, but I just changed it back, so hopefully it'll stay this time. Sheesh. Anyway, I hope you _finally_ enjoyed the first chapter. Enjoy this one, too, maybe? :) Olive is mine, as always.

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Screams so piercing they could actually curdle one's blood if they tried pounded against the walls of the prison blocks. The cement walls made such sounds reverberate within, sounding the alarm of a vicious attack in the block adjacent to C-Block.

Daryl and Olive awoke, each startled by the sounds but determined to help. Each threw on their clothes as quickly as possible, lacing their boots and grabbing their weaponry before heading out of the block to join the others who were accumulating to assist in the assault.

"Daryl!" Olive shouted over the noise, and he turned to look at her prior to catching a box of ammo she tossed to him. They may need it should the attack prove to be worse than expected. It was.

It looked as though walkers had appeared within those staying there, and Olive made quick work in putting one down with her pitchfork the instant they entered the block, preventing it from getting to a woman screaming in the corner.

Daryl headed immediately to a small child at the base of the stairs, picking him up and shooting an arrow directly through the head of the walker attempting to get to the understandably disgruntled young boy.

Rick was soon behind them, followed by Glenn, Tyreese, and Sasha. All assisted in clearing the block of walkers, nothing short of tiring and a bit more occupying than anticipated. Pools of blood, screaming children, and some dying from bites and scratches were all that remained once the block had been cleared of the folks still living.

Olive breathed a sigh of relief as Daryl returned the young boy to his mother.

"You okay?" she asked gently, still catching her breath.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah - you? None of 'em gotcha?" he asked in return, reaching out a hand to stroke her arm.

Olive shook her head. "I'm fine." Crooking her elbow, she coughed lightly into it and his arm moved to her back, patting it lightly.

"Ya sure? You were kinda coughin' in yer sleep last night's why I ask."

She could tell he was concerned and she shook her head, giving him a soft smile. "It's just a cough, Daryl. I'll be fine." She reached down and gave his ass a gentle pat before winking and moving over to where Hershel was inspecting the bodies.

"What's wrong with his eyes?" Rick asked, pointing out the blood oozing from Charlie - one of the walkers - where he lay on the floor.

"Same thing with that woman by the stairs and with Patrick," Hershel noted, speaking with Dr. Subramanian, a man from Woodbury, about the subject. In hushed tones, they chatted for a moment, making Olive a bit tense.

"Daryl," she whispered, turning her sights to her man who was giving her his full attention, "you mentioned that pig was ill."

"Ya think they could be linked to Patrick's illness?" he asked in the same volume she'd given him.

Olive was about to speak again when Hershel noticed their rather quiet conversation and butted in with, "What's that, Olive?"

Olive did not enjoy being put on the spot, but Daryl nudged her gently, so she cleared her throat prior to speaking. "Rick said that the pig from the pen was also sick, bleeding from her eyes just like these people. Is that linked to all this?"

"Flu strains can be passed from pigs and birds just like in olden times," Hershel agreed, turning back to the other doctor. "Maybe it's spreading."

"If that's the case," Dr. Subramanian said with a knowing kind of sigh, "everyone in the block could be infected with the strain. We'll have to quarantine them off until we know for sure."

Olive turned her face into her shoulder, coughing into it once more before nodding in Hershel's direction. "You need help with the body detail?" she asked and when he nodded, she turned to Daryl while the others continued talking. "Go on with Rick. He may need something done about those pigs outside, quarantine off the sick ones like we're having to do in here."

"Undoubtedly, we'll have a council meeting later. Ya comin' to that?" he asked, chewing on his lip nervously.

Olive nodded. "Of course I will be. I was honored when Rick asked me to be on that council."

"He trusts yer judgment and I do, too - more than anyone."

She smiled softly. "I know you do."

"So you'll be there?" he asked again.

"You _know_ I will be." He pressed his lips to her forehead before giving her hand a gentle squeeze and following Rick out of the block.

Olive coughed once more and Hershel approached her, watching as she wiped her mouth onto her t-shirt sleeve.

"So," she said brightly, "what can I help with?"

**::::**

"I think a quarantine may be the best chance those people have at survival just in case they _do_ come down with some kind of illness," Hershel explained. They had met inside the prison library, all of them seated around a table there - Hershel, Rick, Tyreese, Sasha, Glenn, Daryl, and Carol.

Daryl was fidgety - _where the hell are you, Olive?_ - so he didn't speak a damn word the entire time they discussed the parameters of the quarantine and all of that. He didn't hear much - maybe a word or two, here and there, but nothing more than that. Nothing specific. As the meeting adjourned, Carol stopped Daryl by grabbing a hold of his arm.

"The hell?" he said, withdrawing his arm sharply. "Did I say ya could touch me?"

Carol stared at him, wide-eyed, shaking her head in his direction. "Is it really _that_ bad if I touch you?" she inquired, a kind of twisted turn in her voice.

"Yeah, it _is_. I have a _girlfriend_, Carol, and it ain't you, or maybe ya didn't notice that."

Carol's gaze narrowed. "I didn't want this to happen. I didn't ask for her to show up and fuck things up for us."

"'Us'...you make it sound like I wanted you, like somethin' woulda happened if Olive didn't exist er somethin'. Are ya delusional? Ya must be. I _never_ had feelings fer ya like that. Yer like my _mom_." He paused, scoffing as he shook his head, feeling more anger boil up than he'd intended. "I gotta go see Olive." He turned to walk away before a snigger and a sentence he was afraid he'd hear sounded in his ears.

"Good luck with that."

He wheeled around, eyes looking directly at her. "What did ya say?"

"Good luck seeing her, talking to her, fucking her - " She paused, folding her arms across her hollow chest. "She's in the hot zone."

Daryl's head spun with questions, with wonderment, with shock. "Olive's being quarantined? You _kept _this from me?!"

Carol nodded resolutely. "I _wanted_ to."

"You _wanted_ to? Are you fucking serious?"

Carol nodded, a kind of sick smirk on her face. "Yep. He said she's been coughing, so that makes her more vulnerable to catching this flu strain. She's locked in D-Block until Hershel or Dr Subramanian clears her." She chortled to herself and Daryl's blood came to a rolling boil. "Bitch deserves what's coming to her, fucking up my life like that, taking you from me."

"She didn't take me from _anyone_ - I loved her _first_!" Daryl said, his teeth gritted. "I _never_ loved you." He paused, shaking his head in disgust. "I was right when we was back on the Greene farm. Y'are a stupid bitch." He turned on his heels and stalked away, his leg-strides long and purposeful.

The instant he rounded the corner, however, his face fell and his insides wobbled. His love - his only love - was being quarantined, and Carol hadn't told him. Slinging his crossbow back over his shoulder, he took off running, at a full-on sprint until he reached the quarantine zone. Karen was near the door closest to him, tending to a sick resident. Apparently, she, too, was being cut off.

"Karen! Hey!" Daryl shouted, catching her attention as she came to the door. "Where's Olive? She in there?" Karen nodded but said nothing. "I wanna talk to her."

"Go around the block. You'll see an interrogation room where you can talk to her through the window. I'll send her there."

Daryl immediately sprinted off to the room Karen had specified, leaning his crossbow against the wall as he studied the massive glass wall just in front of him. A metal kind of door, like the ones at pharmacy drive-thrus, was on the wall near the floor, but he stared into the glass, watching as the door on the opposite wall, from inside the block, opened. A light flickered until it was on and there stood Olive, catching her breaths between coughs as she entered the room.

Daryl's heart broke, his hands coming to the glass and pressing his palms against it. His eyes welled with real, hot tears and upon sighting him, hers did, too.

"Olive...baby," he breathed, his voice cracking as she came to him.

"I'm so sorry, Daryl," she apologized, placing each of her palms flat against the glass just on the other side of his.

"Carol kept it from me thatcha were here or I'da been here sooner."

Olive shook her head. "It's okay. Hershel says I'm more vulnerable to the flu strain that's here because I had Swine Flu when that outbreak happened a couple of years ago. He said it could return, but it makes me susceptible to this flu. I'm already sick with something, so my chances of not getting this virus are slim."

His face brightened for a moment. "Maybe I was infected, too. Maybe that's enough to get me in there with ya - "

"Daryl, no. You're not infected and you're sure as hell not comin' in here with me."

His chin quivered. "I don't wanna leave ya in there by yerself."

"There are people taking care of me. I'll be right as rain soon. I know it."

"What'll I do out here withoutcha?" Olive felt the tears fall as he spoke, pressing her fingers firmer into the glass as if wanting to feel the heat of his skin seeping through the spaces. "I got no one out here."

"Daryl, you have family out there that need you. You need to be with them. I'm not going anywhere, at least not for a while."

Daryl pressed his hands further against the glass, his body almost entirely pushed against the wall now. "Olive..." he breathed, his breath fogging the barrier somewhat. "...I love you."

Olive's tears streamed from her eyes, clouding her vision as she, too, moved closer to the glass. "And I love you," she responded, sniffling back the sadness. "I'll be alright."

Daryl shook his head slowly, moving one hand towards her face to draw lines against the glass, lines that matched the patterns of her falling tears. "I'd wipe away them tears if I could." He frowned a bit, placing his hand back against the glass and watching as he tilted his fingers some, rotating them in position ever-so-slightly to reflect the spaces in her own fingers. "If I could push my hand through that glass - "

" - your hand would be in mine," she finished gently, her forehead leaning against the chilled substance keeping them apart. "I'm feverish. I can feel how good the glass is against my skin."

Daryl's chin wavered as he, too, pushed his forehead to the glass. "I'm so sorry, Olive. I wish I'd taken better care o' ya."

"You _love_ me. That's more than enough care for me."

"Daryl," Rick's voice said from down the corridor behind him.

"I ain't goin' back to that block tonight."

"But we could use your - "

"Just leave me be!" he tossed over his shoulder before returning to focus on Olive once more. Rick left without another word.

"Daryl, you really should - "

"I don't care. I ain't leavin' ya. Not nobody not know how."

"Okay, Mr. Wizard. I'm just saying - "

"Yer worth more to me than anythin' in this world. I _need_ you and I won't be withoutcha. I can't letcha suffer alone."

Olive relented, knowing that there would be no persuading him to go back to the safe zone. He would stay here with her tonight, each leaned against the two sides of a dividing wall. They would huddle beneath their blankets and whisper soft nothings, exchanging more tears and silence than substantial words. With nothing to go on for the time being, who could blame them?


	3. Isolation and Indifference

**A/N: **I only own Olive. Sadly, I do not own _The Walking Dead_ or any of its characters, as unfortunate as that is for me. Anyway, I combined two episodes - both Isolation and Indifference as stated in the chapter title - but I figured I should specify. Enjoy!

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**::::**

Daryl's dreams of Olive were nightly. Each one was extremely graphic, but were usually about one of two subjects: either they were making hot, passionate love, or she was being brutally, savagely torn to shreds by walkers and consumed. On this night, his nerves were so shot, his anxiety rose to such strong heights that he imagined a combination of both.

They were merely sharing thoughts on procreation and whether or not they wanted to have a family together when a walker entered the room. He suddenly became mute so he couldn't warn her verbally and where body language was concerned, it felt like he had no control of his limbs but was screaming inside for her to watch out, that it was coming right for her. He had to watch in silent horror as the walker used his teeth to rip her jugular from her throat amid nightmare-inducing screams, bellows of pain, shock, and realization.

A second walker shuffled into the cell, this one of Rick's form. His rotting corpse appeared pissed off as he took a bite out of Olive's back, just above her shoulder-blades and she cried out. He was helpless to stop her, but his subconscious noted that it could not idly sit by and watch her be eaten, so it awoke the sleeping Dixon with a start and a full-body jolt.

"Olive!" he groaned, sitting immediately upright and unsheathing his knife from its case. His breath was hot and heavy, his skin caked with a cold sweat that felt chilly the instant a soft breeze swept across him. Glancing over at the glass, he noticed her beginning to stir - she was safe. She was alive. And she was _not_ being eaten by Rick the Walker. "Hey...Olive. You okay?"

She sniffled heavily, now breathing entirely through her mouth from the stuffiness and congestion inside of her head. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her eyelids drooping slightly. "I had one shitty night's sleep."

"I know." He frowned, scooting back towards the glass as he watched her curl up inside her blanket. "I heard you moanin' all night. Sounded awful."

She nodded, wiping her dripping nose with the back of her hand. "Did you sleep okay?" Olive turned her head, peering out at him through the glass. She could tell by the look on his face that he definitely hadn't, but she wanted him to verbalize it regardless.

"Nightmares."

"About what?"

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip before his gaze turned back to meet hers. "You." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "You were bein' eaten and I couldn't save ya. I kept tryin' and failin'. Couldn't move for the life o' me."

"It's just a dream. You know nothin's eating me."

"Nothin' but this virus."

Olive frowned, reaching out a hand to graze her fingertips across the coldness of the barrier. He returned the gesture, his own fingers matching the patterns of hers. "It's just a flu. I'll be fine."

"Ya keep sayin' that but until yer well and back out here with me, I dunno what I can believe anymore. Carol's bein' one helluva creepy bitch, Rick expects so much..." She watched him as best as she could through weary eyes, knowing that he needed to rant. "I dunno how I handled all this before I metcha."

"Well, you did. You'll have to again 'til I'm better."

He was about to say something else when Michonne limped into the end of the hallway.

"Daryl?" she said aloud, and he turned to look at her. "She alright?" She came towards them some more, eyeing the blanket and noting his fingers against the window.

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno. She's real sick though."

Michonne frowned, nodding slightly. "Glenn and Sasha are infected with the virus. That little girl Lizzie, too. Hershel says there's a veterinary college nearby. We're takin' a group to scout it out. I could use your skills. We're gathering medicines. Hershel says he knows how to treat this."

Daryl thought for a moment, desperately wanting to stay behind and spend all the time he could with Olive, but he heard her cough and turned his head in her direction, noticing her looking directly at him.

"You _have_ to go, Daryl," she said, and he could hear the build-up of the nastiness she was she was feeling inside. "You have to help them get medicines to bring back here."

"What if I don't make it back? What'll ya do then?"

She shrugged as much as she possibly could. "Die, I guess." When he frowned, she put a hand to the glass. "I don't want to be here without you."

Daryl chewed on his lip, nodding his head, a gesture that was more for himself than for anyone else. "I'll go and I'll come back. Bring ya medicine, getcha better so you can come back out here with me." He knew how selfish that sounded as the medicines they retrieved could be used for the others who had concocted the ailment, but he didn't care. The only thing he had left to care about was behind the glass, sickly and wrapped in a blanket that couldn't keep her fever chills at bay. "I love you."

Olive smiled, her temple pressed against the cool, clear substance preventing her from touching her man. "I love you."

He watched her for a few more seconds before grabbing his crossbow and rising to his feet, moving quickly to meet Michonne down the hallway. "Let's go. If I stay here any longer, I won't wanna leave her."

"I doubt you would either way," Michonne commented, leading him back towards C-Block as the faint echo of Olive's coughing reverberated off of the walls.

**::::**

When Olive's weary eyelids finally decided that they would rise and attempt to keep her awake, she knew she had been out for a while. The sound of Sasha's cough echoed in her ears like a violent stab to her inner workings. For some reason, any kind of sound not only set her teeth on edge, but nearly gave her a kind of vertigo feeling.

"Sasha?" she managed before she had realized how hoarse her voice had become.

"Brought you some water," the other woman said. "Hershel says that it'll help you keep hydrated while we wait for the others to get back with the meds."

"They're not back yet?" As Sasha shook her head, Olive's head spun. Why weren't they back yet? Her heart, while already racing, now ached in worry for her love. He was tough at the best of times, but with her life in danger, he would be an even larger threat and he was not something she could afford to lose.

**::::**

Daryl was an inch away from pounding this guy into the ground. After all they had just gone through with the oncoming herd, the rush of finding exactly what Hershel needed, and the echoing phrase from the radio lingering in his head – _Sanctuary. Those who arrive, survive_. – he was an emotional wreck longing for nothing but the physical touch of the one thing he couldn't have just yet. Here this guy was – new guy Bob – threatening the safety of their illness-sodden family by putting his need for the bottle first, and because of that, Daryl had every right to be pissed off.

The youngest Dixon only had one thing on his mind and that thing was waiting inside an interrogation room for him to come back to her safely.

He marched over to Bob, his face a mere inch from the other man's. His eyes, if one could have seen them, were hooded and darkened by a lust to fulfill his task, his duty to Olive. "Take one sip before those meds get in Olive and the rest of our people," he said lowly, voice challenging and teeth gritted, "I will _beat_ your ass into the ground." He said nothing else, his snarling lip keeping him from either bursting into tears or lashing out irrationally.

The ride back to the prison was tantalizing. Daryl took shotgun, enabling his old habit of biting his thumbnail – a nervous tick he had always possessed. Michonne mumbled something to him, something about the fact that she was going to stop looking for the Governor. He nodded to let her know that he'd heard her, but his mind was elsewhere - back at the prison, to be exact. Michonne sensed this and decided to let him and his thoughts be alone.


	4. Internment

**A/N:** Damn. I am on a roll here. xD I hope you all are still with me. I know that this all is a bit tedious, but it will slow up once I reach the mid-season episodes - I promise. Until then, enjoy.

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**::::**

Olive turned onto her side, the mucus coating her throat now stuffed into her sinuses so compact, so tight, that she felt her head pounding, pounding - like it was waiting to implode. Shaky, clammy hands cradled her head as if for a sickly kind of comfort, all the while knowing that this flu threatened to become far worse if she couldn't keep it together while Daryl was away. What if she actually _did_ die? What then? What would become of Daryl?

_Mustn't think about that. Get well again or you'll definitely lose him!_

"Olive?" a voice said from the doorway. The way her head was pounding caused the vocal tones of the person in the doorway to sound undulated and wavy as if they were underwater. She knew the voice belonged to Hershel regardless of the way her head was spinning - if she hadn't been sitting and leaning back against the wall, she'd have keeled over from the vertigo.

"I'm fine," she managed weakly before coughing and shifting, feeling the pressure in her chest. "Just the flu is all." She could hear the clicks of his crutches against the cement floor, the realization finally hitting her. "What the hell are you doing inside here? It's not safe. You could get sick or worse - "

"I _know_ that already."

"Then what the hell?"

"I'm in here to help. The resident doctor has taken sick with the virus and has shut himself inside of his cell."

"Subramanian has the virus?" She thought she could make out a nod from the old man, but continued to speak regardless. "Do I have it?"

Hershel sighed, placing his hand over her forehead. The warmth of his skin was a slight comfort, almost like a father's care, and she relished the gesture even though he was merely checking for a fever. "If you _did_ have the virus, you'd have a fever. You don't. You're freezing."

Olive nodded, shifting the blanket to be tighter around her shoulders. "I know." She paused, swallowing a mixture of saliva and sinus drainage before continuing. "I wish Daryl was here."

Hershel listened to her speak, allowing her time to cough before he spoke again. "I know you do. I'm sure he's on his way back. When he gets here, he'll have things I need to make people well again inside this zone. You'll need to drink some of what I make and then you can get back to him."

"You want to vaccinate me?" He nodded again and she closed her eyes, refusing to deal with the vertigo as it was beginning to cause her stomach acid to churn. "Good. I don't want to get Daryl sick."

"Exactly why you'll drink what I give you, alright?" His crutches clicked against the floor, the echoes getting farther away as he left her to her nauseated form of dizziness.

**::::**

_Her footfalls against the forest floor were heavy as she and her siblings distanced themselves from the hoarde they'd left back at the store, back where her father had sacrificed himself to give them time to get away._

_"Ollie, wait," Lacey said, rather short of breath as she stopped running, pale hands gripping her knees as she bent over, coughing and sputtering her shortness of breath. "I can't run much farther."_

_Olive stopped, wheeling around to move back to where her brother, Grant, was patting their littlest sister on the back. At seventeen, Lacey was the youngest of the three of them and the skinniest and palest by far. She was a freckled, sickly-looking girl with long, strawberry blonde hair and the biggest green eyes Olive had ever seen. She was frightened all the time now and given what had just happened to their father, it was understandable._

_"Lacey, we need to keep moving," Olive warned her. "It's nearly nightfall and these dweebs will be all over us by then. We have to get somewhere better, somewhere safer."_

_"Olive, I'm tired - "_

_"We're __**all**__ tired, Lace. We need to keep going."_

_"She's right," Grant agreed, though his eyes said otherwise. "We'll find some house somewhere and stay there. We need to move."_

_"We need to move __**now**__," Olive corrected, gesturing to an oncoming herd against the treeline._

_Reluctantly, they all took off running once more with Grant's friend Ned pulling up the rear. They were nearly clear of the treeline when Ned let out a horrified scream and all turned back in time to see two of the dweebs munching on his leg and shoulder. Grant screamed and began shooting at them, but he missed and Olive forced him away, yelling that they needed to keep moving - Ned was now lost to them._

_Several miles later, the trio was clear of the dweebs that had impounded the fourth in their group. Taking shelter inside of a ramshackle shed of sorts, they barred themselves in and kept the room dark, each of them making certain to avoid the windows._

_"He's dead...I can't believe we left him...he's gone...Ned's dead...they fucking ate him...what the hell..."_

_Grant was in the corner, his knees pulled into his chest and his eyes wide with fright. Olive could see through the darkness that his entire body was shaking._

_She moved over to him. "We've all lost people, Grant," she said, trying her very best to remain strong. "We lost Dad, too, and - "_

_"And Mom. And Henry. And Darlene. And Justin. And Kyle." Olive saddened at the memory of those in their group that they had lost along the way. "What the fuck is the point in going on? There's nothing out there, no way of surviving. In the end, we're gonna die."_

_"Don't talk like that, especially not within Lacey's earshot." Lacey was curled into a ball and sleeping against an adjacent wall. "We've made it this far - there is something more out there, something just for us, some place we can call home again."_

_"Where is it, then, Olive? We've lost everyone."_

_"We have each other. That's enough for me in my book."_

_Grant leaned his head back against the wall. "For you maybe."_

_"I know you don't believe me, but I __**know**__ I'm right. There __**is**__ something out there for us."_

_He sighed and paused for a moment, nodding slowly. "Maybe you're right. Get some sleep. We'll sort things out in the morning."_

_Olive slept fitfully that night and rather uncomfortably, though a couple of hours were managed. Upon waking, she checked on Lacey, her coiled form whimpering as she shuddered beneath her jacket. Olive heard a frightful noise from outside, grabbing her pitchfork to check on the noise. A walker was just outside, chewing ferociously on the legs of a swinging body, the body of Grant..._

**::::**

"Grant!" Olive shouted, awaking with a start. Her entire body heaved a heavy breath as a breeze struck her sweat-ridden flesh. She was chilled to the bone, curling up beneath her blanket once again as she began to sob, her shoulders shivering and her fists holding a white-knuckled grip on the wool cloth around her.

"Olive?" Hershel said from the doorway, entering the room when he noticed she wasn't answering him. "You suffer from nightmares...?" She nodded briefly and he took a seat on the cot nearest her. "Who is Grant?"

Olive's eyes fluttered shut momentarily, tears clouding her vision once she had reopened them. "Grant was my brother," she answered, and Hershel's expression reflected the sadness he felt for her. "He hanged himself by his belt during the night. I found him the next morning - a walker was eating his legs - I had to put it down and then cut him loose..." She paused, her chin quivering. "I buried him before my sister...before she...I couldn't let her see him like that..."

"Your sister was younger than you, I take it." Her silence gave him the answer he had expected. "What happened to her?"

Olive's eyes downcast and twitched slightly, her mind awash with memories.

**::::**

_"I'm tired, Olive," Lacey said with her head drooped against her sister's shoulder. "I'm so tired of this life." It had been over a week since Grant's suicide and the two of them had been from one place to the next, never ceasing in their bit to find a place to call home. With just the two of them now, Olive couldn't rest properly until she knew that her sister was safe somewhere. In this moment, they had taken refuge beneath a tree for the night, each huddled close to the other for protection and warmth._

_"You can't talk like that," Olive said, turning her head slightly to give her sister's temple a soft kiss. "Seriously. We have to be strong now - don't freak out on me now, Lacey, okay? You're the only person I've got now."_

_Lacey gave a heavy-souled sigh, the kind that made Olive's heart break for her. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired lately and I don't know why. It's like my heart is what's tired."_

_"It's because you're giving up. You __**can't**__ give up, Lacey."_

_Lacey shifted some, nodding just once. "I'm trying not to, Olive. I'm trying to be more like you - that's all I want now...to be like you."_

_Olive held her sister's hand as the young girl nodded off against her arm. She tried to stay awake as long as possible, but eventually fell asleep with her knife in one hand and her head against Lacey's._

_A fitful night's sleep eventually woke Olive with a start, her eyes wide and completely awakened. The sun was up, the birds were chirping, and no walkers were within sight. A soft smile crossed her lips as she leaned her head back against the tree. _

_"Another morning, another day of sunshine," Olive said brightly, chuckling at her own sense of cheeriness. "Lacey, we need to get moving soon." She turned her attention to her sister, still beside her as she had been all night. Something was different - something was off. Olive's hand touched her sister's face - like ice. She turned her chin up to look at her - eyes were clamped shut. Her lips were slightly parted and her freckles seemed dimmer than she knew them to be, even in the brightness of the sunlight. "...Lacey? Oh, God." _

_Olive moved her entire body, arms holding her sister's limp body as it keeled into her arms. She placed her ear to her sister's chest - empty. Two fingers against her neck could not deduce a hearbeat. Lacey was lifeless, Lacey was cold - Lacey was __**dead**__._

_Her sister's tired form, she realized, was because her body was shutting down. Lacey no longer wanted to live, so her body saw to it. She had fallen asleep and did not wake up._

_"Oh, God," Olive said, her chin quivering as she cradled her sister in her arms, rocking back and forth as she sobbed. Her tears dripped from her face and onto Lacey's, creating lines that connected her baby sister's dusty freckles and now-lifeless, pale skin. "Lace...no. I'm sorry, Lacey. I'm so, so sorry." Her broad shoulders heaved a sigh in her infinite pain, her forehead craning down to press against the figure in her arms. "Why did you leave without me?" At this, she wept, ultimate suffering breaking in her voice as she turned her eyes upwards towards the heavens, silently pleading with God for answers, for anything._

**::::**

"I'm so sorry." Hershel's voice was beyond sincere, though it was clear that he didn't quite know what to say to that.

"I wish I could've done more for her."

"You can't think that - she gave up."

"But she was my _sister_, Hershel." Olive shook her head. "I failed her as a sibling. I should've taken better care of her, kept morale high."

"You tried that though and she didn't take to it. It's not your fault."

Her shoulders shrugged beneath the wool blanket. "Doesn't matter now, I guess. She's been gone so long...I still regret so much."

"You can't live with regret like that anymore. This group needs your skills and Daryl needs you entirely more than the rest of us combined." Her sad, brown eyes looked towards his, a kind of pleading look on her wearied features. "You're needed here, Olive, with a head on your shoulders that's proud and lives with no regrets. They can become a burden the longer you let 'em sit. Don't let 'em getcha for too long or you'll give up like Lacey. I don't want to think about how Daryl would react if you were gone." In a few moments of silence, Olive said nothing and Hershel decided to leave her to sleep. "Get some rest. I've got some tending to do to the others."

**::::**

A loud bang against the glass behind her head woke Olive instantaneously. She turned to see Maggie against the glass, palms flat against the material and eyes wide.

"Olive! Behind you!" she shouted, and Olive turned in time to see three walkers begin lumbering into the room.

"Shit," Olive said, fumbling to her tingling feet, her legs almost numbed and her hands shaking as she quickly grabbed her pitchfork from its leaned position against the wall.

"Watch it!" Maggie screamed, firing a bullet into the the glass, the shattering noise riling up the walkers in the room. Olive gripped the handle of her weapon, jabbing upwards once and watching as the spokes stuck directly into the walker's head.

"Maggie, go!" Olive said over the wheezing sound of the remaining two walkers, drawing their attention away from the door as she lured them further into the room to clear the doorway for Maggie to get through. "Come at me, fuckers." Her lips stretched into a grin as she kicked one walker away with her boot and threw her pitchfork at it like it was a spear, watching as it pierced the skull with a gushing kind of crunch sound. Her left hand grabbed her scythe blade from her belt loops, spinning around and lashing her arm out with a grunt, the upper-cut motion pushing the blade underneath the softened cranium of the oozing form in front of her, the blood from the wound spilling onto her hands as she struggled to regain her proper breathing measures.

The walker's body fell to the ground with a thud and Olive gazed out of the doorway, the sounds of the gunshots being fired reverberating against the walls for a few moments and then, with the thuds of bodies hitting the floor, silence was as an echo throughout the entire block and the groans and snarls of walkers ceased. Peace.

Olive's vision suddenly grew blackened and fuzzy, her own body feeling as light as a feather as she, like so many of the walkers that had somehow run rampant throughout the block, met the floor with a slump.

**::::**

Rick patted his son on the back as the van pulled into the main courtyard. It had taken their group far too long to return to the prison, and once they did, a sight there was to be seen.

Olive's plans for the fence had not only been put to use, but had failed in one entire section. A rather large hoard of walkers had burst through the fences and up into the main courtyard. Rick and Carl, all alone, had taken every single one of them out and now there was a pile of bodies that would need to be cleared away.

"What happened?" Michonne asked as she exited the vehicle.

"Part of the fence gave in," Rick answered, "so we'll have to fix it."

"Where is everyone?" Daryl asked, glancing around as he grabbed his crossbow from the center console of the vehicle.

"Maggie was out here, but help was needed in the quarantine zone. Walkers got in there somehow, so she went in to help them out."

Daryl's head spun and with a quick turn on his heels, he sprinted into the prison. Tyreese was hot on his heels, obviously wanting to check on Sasha. His heart raced as he fluidly made his way to the visitation room. He could see that the glass barrier was broken, bits of it still remained attached to the frame of the window itself, but glass lay strewn across the floor. He could see the bodies of three fallen walkers as he approached, one of them with Olive's pitchfork lodged in his brain. Where was Olive?

He slowed his pace, noticing her legs within sight of the frame, but her upper half wasn't.

"Olive," he said under his breath as he watched Tyreese leap over the window frame and into the zone, taking off on his own to look for Sasha. Daryl quickly darted to her side, picking her torso up and holding her within his arms as he made sure she was breathing. She was. In fact, she was stirring.

Eyelids fluttering open to reveal her wide browns, Olive blinked several times as she moved a hand to her forehead and pressed it to her temple. "Daryl," she said on an exhale, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to push her forehead against his.

"Y'alright?" he asked, running a hand down the length of her body to check for wounds, bite marks, or general breakages. There were none to be found.

"I'm fine. Took these three out so Maggie could get inside and help them. I fainted, I guess." Her hand cupped his jawline, caressing his cheek with her thumbs as she kept her face close to his. "Did you get what Hershel needed?"

Daryl nodded. "We did. That means you'll be outta here tonight and I can getcha back to our room." A light smile upturned the corners of his lips. "I'm glad yer safe."

Olive sighed a sad kind of sound. "I've missed you."

He nodded gently, moving in to press a gentle kiss to her lips for a moment before pulling back and scooting her with him. He moved them back towards the wall and drew her entire body into his embrace, keeping her as close as humanly possible. "We'll wait here 'til Hershel makes that stuff fer ya and then we'll head out."

"Just hold me until then," she asked, hooking both of her arms around his waist and burying her face in his neck.

"I will. I ain't gon' leave ya ever again."

She smiled sadly, recalling the death of her sister given her similar stance with Daryl at the moment. Her fists balled up in his shirt, pulling him deeper into her clutches as she heaved a sob into his skin, her body releasing the sadness it felt. Daryl kept his grip on her tight, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt the heat of her sadness begin to affect him as well.


End file.
